Anchor Point
by sancheaazy
Summary: Katniss is a junior at WVSU. On her first night back, she makes a bet, slightly drunk at a party. She has to hit a target 3 times, or lose 300 dollars. On her first 2, she hits the bullseye. On her third, a set of piercing blue eyes distracts her. When she has trouble looking away, the scream of the person she's hit helps her. Rated M for lang&lemons. No deaths,just laughs! AU K/P
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

* * *

_I pick up my bow, abruptly aware of the fifty pairs of eyes on me. I may be beyond tipsy right now, but I'm a sure shot—drunk or sober. I've done this before with way more booze in my system, so this buzz holds no effect on me._

_I know that I'm being stupid and reckless by doing this, but my pigheadedness currently has a vice grip on my dignity. That feeling of confidence I get when I've had a few drinks fuels me further towards proving that the jackass who thinks I can't shoot is wrong._

_Finnick strolls over to the target and boldly takes it off the stand, holding the large target over his chest while shooting me a cocky grin. A few people gasp, others just laugh at his tenacity._

_I narrow my eyes at him. His grin only grows larger, knowing he was successful in annoying me gives him satisfaction._

_I act like I don't know what I'm doing for a few seconds, holding the bow and arrow awkwardly, trying to figure out what goes where._

_I catch the sneer out of the corner of my eye. Irritation fills my lungs, suddenly wanting nothing more than to wipe the smile off that face as fast as humanely possible. I'm not easily shaken; I've been challenged before, but for some reason, today, this douchebag gets to me._

_Nocking the arrow and drawing it back, I take a deep breath. I close my eyes, willing the dizziness to disappear for a few seconds. When they open, the stability I always feel when holding my bow washes through me. Holding my breath a little longer, I take a few seconds to aim at the target. As I breathe out, the arrow flies through the air._

_It hits the bulls-eye with a soft _clunk_._

_I don't even bother looking up._

_Picking up the second arrow I declare, "one hundred."_

_I repeat my mechanical process of breathing in and aiming; a habit picked up after the hundreds of times I've drawn an arrow before the one in my hand._

_Hitting the bulls-eye again on the second shot, I announce my next two words loud and clear, "two hundred." The buzz from a few minutes ago reduces from the adrenaline pumping through my blood._

_As I reach for the third arrow, that rush I felt grows deeper, sneaking in through my bones and reaching my heart, making it beat three times faster. My cheeks become flamed and a knot starts to form in my stomach. I close my eyes, briefly trying to dismiss the feeling the same way as earlier._

_I draw my arrow back and open my eyes._

_They're drawn to the right of the target, about ten feet away from it. I'm met with a set of piercing cerulean eyes, the purest shade of blue I've ever seen. My mind catches up with the rest of me a few seconds later, confirming that those eyes are the source of the blazing fire I feel in the pit of my stomach._

_My heart picks up speed as I'm trapped in the trance the two blue orbs grip me in. I'm paralyzed; I will myself to look away but I can't seem to make my body cooperate with my brain. Everyone and everything else blurs, all I can see are the transcendent irises that stare back at me._

_I can't seem to find the right word for the sensation that envelops my whole being. Feelings surface that were, until that moment, uncharted territory. Everything makes sense and then it instantly doesn't. I don't have any words for it—even if I did, I wouldn't be able to articulate them. My body seems to have checked out on me._

_I don't know how much time has passed, but I can't even begin to think about how I'm going to look away._

_The sound of glass breaking keeps me from wondering any longer, yanking me out of the grasp._

_The girly scream I hear twenty yards away finishes pulling me back to the present. My head whips back to my left and see the same asshole that challenged me, except he's covered in beer and glass._

_I shot right through his beer bottle._

_I start towards him, eyes wide with worry. I start to think about everything that could go wrong in the next few seconds, _oh god, what if I hit him? What do I say to my mom, to the dean?…I can't lose my scholarship over this.

_The remorse I feel turns into confusion and aggravation, then is quickly eclipsed by shame. I can't help it. While I feel terrible for possibly hurting the poor guy, it does nothing to hide the irrational annoyance I'm riddled with._

_I _never_ miss._


	2. Still Sane

**Disclaimer: I don't own thg, but I do own this Johanna's sassy mouth.**

**I know this chapter is pretty long, but I couldn't decide where to cut it in half. The coming chapters won't be so long, I hope!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

CHAPTER 1

_(10 hours prior to prologue)_

I look up at the same campus I've called home for the past two years.

Everyone is thoughtlessly walking around me, preoccupied with his or her own share of problems.

Freshman scramble to get to their new dorm rooms, parents and siblings of the sophomores' give teary-eyed hugs, sad to spend another year apart. Seniors, who are more than ready to become grad students, confidently walk up to the building.

I look over the freshly cut, pristine green grass towards the massive brick red admissions office.

The trees lining the quad are in full bloom, bursting with leaves. The sun is high in the sky, promising a beautiful day.

I take a moment to breathe in the fresh air, enjoying the view of the lovely sight.

I was lucky enough to earn a full ride scholarship to West Virginia State University that I had worked my ass off for; the pay off was a huge financial relief.

Just having the memory of working part time as an 'under-the-table inventory re-stocker' 6 nights a week at a club, while trying to maintain a perfect 4.0 GPA on top of having to take care of Prim, _and_ pay half the bills, was enough to make me want a degree in just about anything.

My major isn't something to brag about to the up-and-coming engineers here, but I know deep down, it would have made my father proud.

It's also something that keeps me happy, even if it does bring up gloomy memories of the past.

The career I'm pursuing will let me support my mother and Prim after I graduate. It's also ten times better than the job I currently have, which is barely making ends meet.

My heart sinks a little as I remember why two people were left in my care at the age of fourteen.

_He's gone,_ I remind myself, _He won't be here for your college graduation, or Prim's._

Shaking off the depressive feelings I get every time I think about my father, I adjust the strap on my duffle bag and start walking again.

I hear a familiar "Hey stranger!" a few minutes later that immediately brings a smile to my face.

"Gale!" I laugh as I turn and am faced with my 6' 3" tall, dark, and handsome best friend.

I run the few steps that separate us into his waiting arms.

"Here I thought you wouldn't remember me, Catnip." Gale teases, his grey eyes softening.

"How could I ever forget my best friend? We made a pact when we were eight, I'm still bent on keeping it." I counter, remembering the silly pact we made in the woods when we were kids about staying friends forever, even if we were ever separated.

At fourteen, that promise was made nearly impossible to break, since we had to depend a lot on each other to car pool and babysit while one or the other worked.

We had both suffered the same loss, both our fathers had been killed in a mine explosion when we were just teens. We understood the others' struggle to keep food on the table and our siblings in school.

"Pact?" He questions, "I don't even remember knowing you when I was eight…"

"Don't play dumb, I know where you sleep, and I know your roommate would love to join in on the fun, too." I give him my best stern face, narrowing my eyes.

"Speaking of roommates, where's Jo?" He asks, a little _too_ innocently, but I catch the barely-there acute curiosity.

I try to maintain an oblivious attitude, still not wanting to admit what I had witnessed on the first day of summer last year.

I had walked in on Johanna Mason and Gale Hawthorne bumping uglies at a start-of-the-summer party while drunkenly stumbling around looking for a bathroom to puke in.

If I hadn't already felt like puking before walking in on them, that certainly did the trick. Walking in on my two best friends having sex was not how I wanted the start of my summer to be like.

I thanked all the saints and baby Jesus himself that they had been too drunk—and too _loud—_to detect my clumsy entrance.

I already wanted to wash my brain out with bleach after witnessing that; I can't even imagine the mortification that would be paired with that if they had noticed me.

"She should be here already, she texted me a few hours ago… Something about wanting to get here early to sneak booze on campus for the party later."

"Well, she does know how to party," he smirks.

Trying to smother my shudder of disgust with a smile I add, "You'd think she was carried in a womb full of whiskey from the way that girl drinks."

I hear Gale mutter something under his breath about loving girls who hold their liquor, but ignore it as I steer him through the quad towards my dorm.

After a few steps he relieves me of my heavy duffle bag, leaving me with only my suitcase to drag along.

I smile my thanks and bump shoulders with him, cheerful about seeing my best friend.

We walk in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, developed over many years of friendship, before he talks.

"So how was your summer?"

"Good. Haymitch put me back on full time at the club, so I got some extra cash that I still have to spend on books and a few other things I might need this year."

When I turned eighteen, Haymitch Abernathy, club owner of _Nightlock_, deemed me old enough to waitress. He promoted me from inventory re-stocker, to hostess the day after my birthday. With the downside of having to wear booty shorts and being hit on constantly, I was pretty content with the pay raise, and I definitely didn't mind the ridiculous tips I received on weekends.

"I also bought Prim some clothes for the new school year," I babble on about my little sister, "she forced me to get some for me as well… and Posy asked me to teach her how to shoot, think with a little more practice she'll be pretty handy with a bow," I tell Gale about his own sister, while he beams proudly at me, "oh, before I left I restocked the fridge at both houses, so don't worry about sending money to Hazelle for the next two weeks, you're covered."

"Thanks a lot, Catnip. You didn't have to do that, really. I don't know what I would've done without you this summer," he gives me one of his genuine smiles only reserved for those closest to him.

"Oh, I don't know…" I look up to the sky and place my pointer finger on my chin, "_not_ spend your summer backpacking through Europe on some adventurous 'study abroad' summer program—or whatever. I know you did no such studying, and I want to hear about everything you saw. Johanna sent lots of pictures and letters while you guys were gone, you looked really… _happy_." I emphasize the last word.

"I will forever be in your debt, Katniss, really," Gale quickly changes he subject back, "thank you for taking care of things at home while I tried to find myself over there—"

"No, no," I cut him off, "You really needed that trip. I could see the stress over here was taking its toll on you. You always forget we're still young, and you've taken on so much responsibility. I know the feeling; I've done the same thing. That trip was necessary if you were going to plan on keeping that full head of hair." I joke; but I know he hears the sincere truth in my words.

While I had only two people to take care of, Gale had four.

I remember the worry lines, permanently etched on his forehead, while working three jobs. He acts as if what I did for him was a huge deal, but what he did for my family and me, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to repay.

"Well, anyway, I never got to properly thank you. I still owe you," he stresses, looking into my pale grey eyes with resolve.

"You know we stopped keeping count a long time ago, Hawthorne." I smile, looking away, trying to keep the mood happy.

When we reach my building, we're left with a short walk through the main lobby and a few flights of stairs before we get to my new room in the upperclassman living quarters.

Avoiding the elevators is a given, they're overrun with people trying to save the haul up the stairs with boxes of shit they'll probably never use.

I'm relieved as I gaze at the long line of people at the elevator, glad I thought to bring all of my belongings up the night before.

My eyes take time to admire the new living quarters I've been assigned.

The sage green walls, preserved brick floor, and steps make the building seem more comfortable. The walk up to my room is spent eyeing all the paintings on the walls.

When I open the door, my eyes take a moment to adjust to what I'm looking at.

I find my roommate, singing—well, more like yelling—along to some Mumford and Sons song while unpacking her stuff.

The line that invisibly draws her side and mine unclear in the pile of boxes and suitcases.

"Hey bitches!" Johanna yells over the music. I roll my eyes at her, accustomed to her lack of etiquette, as well as her lack of shame.

She struts over to the speakers on the windowsill and cuts them off.

She's wearing some high-waisted jean shorts—emphasis on the shorts—and a black studded bra; her shirt probably thrown somewhere on the floor hours ago… Or maybe she's been wearing it like that all day.

She turns and wipes the sweat off her forehead, her choppy black hair looking a little damp. She had the tips dyed a deep maroon, the color unlike the dark blue I've been so used to for the past year.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Gale's eyes rack over her body with a look I'm glad he's never looked at me with.

"Hey Jo, glad to see you're already making yourself at home. Can't find your clothes in this mess?" the sarcasm is evident in my voice.

"Ha ha, Ever-jokester," she retorts with a lame jab, "be careful with that tone, or I won't give you your presents."

I groan, "oh great, what now? Please, if it's another vibrator, wait until Gale leaves."

The anxiety over the thought of what she's gotten me starts settling in my stomach.

"Hey! That was a great Valentine's gift! Lord knows you need to get laid, I only tried to ease the pain of your _SUTA_ _syndrome_" She acts hurt, but I see the mischief in her wide brown eyes.

She's diagnosed me with my own disease—_Stick Up The Ass Syndrome—_ever since our first real conversation.

We couldn't stand each other the first few months we knew each other.

The fake diagnosis brings back the memory of our first encounter after being assigned roommates.

I was studying in the library, when over heard two snotty rich bitches talk about how I always wore the same clothes.

They kept droning on about how I needed a haircut and how I would be an eternal virgin with my looks and attitude. I was quickly losing my patience with them after thirty minutes of their shit talk…

_"Ugh, can you imagine the birds that live in that braid of hers, it looks like some horrible nest," blonde bimbo number one shrieks._

_"She needs to be taught—" the second blonde suddenly stops talking._

_I turn around just as one of the girls scream. I spot her on the ground holding a hand to her bloody face while my new roommate, Johanna Mason, stands over the Blondie with a look of pure hatred on her face._

_"You ever want some more, Cashmere, just mention her name," she spits at her._

_She grabs my hand and leads me to back to our dorm room._

_Sitting me down, she gives me a haircut before I can realize what's going on._

_"All you needed was a trim, and you can borrow any of my clothes…you look like my size." She eyes my newly cut hair while brushing her hot pink bangs out of her face._

_Finally finding my words, I bark at her, "I can fight my own battles, and I can certainly buy my own clothes"_

_She leans in a little and growls through gritted teeth, "listen Grinch, I'm just trying to help. I couldn't stand hearing those twats insult you any longer it was pathetic. This way they have nothing to talk about. Consider yourself Cinderella, and I'm your fairy bitch mother." She finishes while wearing a sarcastic smile._

_"I'm not a fucking charity case," I snarl, standing up and getting in her face, "and _don't_ compare me to some pathetic poor little girl."_

_I stay there, staring at her with my own kind of hatred—I loathed being pitied—neither of us willing to back down._

_She rolls her eyes after a beat and throws the scissors down with a huff, "Look, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm kind of a blunt b—" my sharp laugh cuts her off, "—itch…_but_" she stops, pointedly looking at me, "you seem like a no-bullshit kind of girl. I don't really hang with frilly little rich girls. Unlike them, I've earned what I've got—the hard way—not the 'daddy, like, pretty please' way," she raises her voice a few octaves and mimics the cliché Cali girl voice, "you seem like you work for everything you have, and I think we can both see eye-to-eye here..."_

_My eyes soften minimally and I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding in._

_"Go on," I urge, curious as to what she has left to say._

_"Let's face it. We're going to be going to the same school for the next four years. I'd rather sleep in the same room with a bitch that has stick-up-her-ass syndrome then some spoiled valley girl for the next few years. We could at _least_ be pleasant with each other."_

_"True." I agree, understanding what she has been trying to get at._

_In the coming years, unless we request it, we would have different roommates. And the odds of getting a nice one at this point were not in our favor._

_"I don't want some best friend to pour my broken heart out to and rub my back when I puke, but an agreeable acquaintance wouldn't hurt. I don't pity you, I envy you. At least you look like you deserve the pay off; on the surface it doesn't look like I've earned all this stupid money my whole family has sweat profusely to finally get. Take this as a compliment, and a rare one at that, because you won't ever hear one from me again after this: You're a hot piece of ass, Everdeen. You deserve better than to be talked to about by those jealous ugly dogs behind your back._

_You're not in high school anymore. There is no popular and unpopular. There's class and parties. You look like you could use a lot—and I mean a _lot_—of party. Take my agreement. If not, I'm fine with having to suffer four years of having to listen to why some rotten whore didn't get a red Porsche instead of her yellow one or what the fuck ever."_

_She gives a short nod, indicating she's done with her feisty monologue._

_I clench my jaw, a habit picked up from Gale, deciding what to say next._

_"Deal…but if I'm borrowing your clothes—_which_ I haven't decided if I'm doing or not—I'm buying the food." I feel like it's a reasonable agreement, but then quickly add, "Oh, and no fucking unless I'm unquestionably gone and not coming back for hours. I'm tired of walking in on you and your sexcapades."_

_Johanna guffaws, throwing her head back. "Oh, you're fiery. I think I'll have fun with that attitude. You've got yourself a permanent roommate, girl on fire." She holds out her hand for me to shake while wearing a smirk._

_"Yeah, whatever," shaking her hand while trying to hide my smile, "just you try walking in on your roommate in some foreign sex position—"_

_"It's called the hummingbird, and it's _very_ pleasurable," she states proudly, jutting her chin out._

_"Right… well, whatever it's called, I don't need to stab my eyes out get that sight out of my head."_

"What the fuck, Johanna?!" Gale yells, startling me into the present, "I so didn't need to hear that about my best friend, she's like my sister," he continues, refusing to look at me.

"Oh common, Gale. Katniss doesn't get any dick, how do you think she keeps herself exploding from the tension she inflicts on her body?" Johanna snickers.

"I do _so_ get… d-dick!" I stammer out, unable to bring myself to say the word, and tired of them talking about me while I'm standing right there.

I'm suddenly met with two pairs of curious eyes and raised eyebrows. Johanna and Gale gape at me with both questioning, surprised looks.

"You've been living with me for two years… I'm not that heavy of a sleeper," Jo snorts.

"Ugh guys… It's embarrassing," hiding my face in my hands, I continue, "and it was so quick and sweaty I don't even think you guys noticed me gone that long at that rush party sophomore year." I abruptly become interested in the box next to me.

"WHAT?!" Gale bellows out after understanding what I've said, "were you roofied? Who was it? Was it Cato? I'm gonna kill that fucker—"

"EW! Gross! Never, ever, would I have sex with Cato! Even if I was roofied and he was the only guy on campus! The guy I did it with transferred that same year, and we only hooked up twice, I don't remember his name…the second time I was actually sober, thinking it would be slightly better—boy was I wrong!" I shudder, disgusted with the memory and myself.

At least that was over with and nobody could say I was a virgin or prude anymore.

I remembered every ghastly detail of how it felt, suffocated by his body. Hot breath, reeking of Jack Daniels, in my ear, panting. It was a memory I'm still working on banishing from my brain.

I swear I could've been fucked by a jackhammer and not known the difference.

"Will you calm down, brother bear?" Jo interrupts, "You act like it was your virginity! Katniss can do whatever the hell she wants!" She gives a short, dignified nod and winks at me.

"Thanks, Jo." I turn to smile mockingly at Gale, while he looks at us slightly disgusted and worried.

"I just wish you would find yourself a good guy, Catnip. I know a lot of nice guys, and almost all my friends talk about what a catch you are," Gale begins softly.

I think of a way to cut him off, not wanting to have this conversation for what seems like the hundredth time.

Grasping at straws, I blurt out, "What about you, Gale? I know plenty of girls tripping over themselves just to get a good look at you."

I know it's childish, considering I already know Jo's had a thing for him since before I can remember, but I had no more options.

I don't miss the way she bristles in my peripheral.

"Just try and actually enjoy yourself this year, Catnip" Gale reconciles; trying not to get me as upset as I was the last time he brought this up.

"What have I been doing these past two years!?" I snap, startling Gale, "I've been to almost every party with you guys, and I manage to go out with Annie and Madge twice a month to somewhere _other than_ _Barnes & Noble_." I continue, my happy mood starting to disappear.

"I just mean…" He stops me and raises his hands, looking at me like I'm some scared puppy, "it's okay to like a guy, and just… you know… act like a girl and… stuff… actually accept the dates guys ask you out on." He finishes.

"Fine." I huff, ending the conversation. I hate arguing with Gale.

I grab the nearest flask and take a slug of whatever is in it.

It turns out to be the most disgusting thing I've ever put in my mouth, and burns all the way down my throat.

"What the _FUCK_ is this!?" I cough out, gripping the box next to me for support, immediately regretting that drink.

I try to keep cursing to a bare minimum, but when around Jo, the sailor mouth in me comes out.

"Oh, it's Russian vodka. I got it in Prague, isn't it tasty?" Jo announces while wiggling her eyebrows at me. She whispers about what a lightweight I am under her breath as she passes me.

"Common," she says lifting a box, "we've got to get at least some of these boxes cleared out of here before we go to the party later. I'm going to be _waaay_ to hung over tomorrow to do anything…Lets go, Hawthorne! Put those sexy arms to work," she exclaims while hitting his butt, making him yelp in surprise, "help us out, tough guy!"

I burst out laughing; witnessing what I think is the first time I've ever seen Gale Hawthorne blush.

Gale looks around sheepishly, eventually picking up a box labeled "winter clothes" and gets started on helping us clear out what looks like a nuclear wasteland of a dorm room.

Hours later, Gale finally calls it quits; reminding us he has unpacking of his own to do. "Alright, I've done everything I could do. You guys are on your own," he sighs and waves at us on his way to the door, promising to come back to do some pregaming before the party.

I open a box of books and start neatly tucking them into my bookshelf, reading all the titles as they're put away.

"So..." I start, looking up at Johanna from the task.

"What?"

"Don't be so obtuse, Jo. I caught a few of those looks you and Gale were giving each other these past few hours," I point out, trying pressure her to give me any information about her and Gale's weird co-existence—to call it a relationship would be too official and overstated.

Jo had only sent me land and cityscape pictures and of the places she'd traveled, with very few of herself in the photos. I had seen only one of her and Gale, in Verona. She had this unusual look on her face that I never thought would be seen on Johanna, it seemed borderline blissful.

"He's nice to look at. What? Is that a crime?" Her eyes narrow at me over the box of comforters she's sitting behind, silently warning me this is a subject not to be breached.

Frustrated, I slam my tattered copy of _1984_ on the shelf. I don't know why I bother.

_When are they just going to tell each other how they really feel?_ I fume 're both so stubborn. _Is it a crime to step up and be the first to say something?_

She always does this. I broach the topic of Gale and her, and she goes on emotional lockdown.

After two years of living together I would have thought we were at a point in our friendship that we could share these kinds of things.

I know both Jo and I aren't particularly sentimental, but if I needed to sit here and listen, I'd do it.

I wouldn't be able to give her advice, but I like to believe letting things off her chest could end up being helpful.

I try a different approach.

"Just tell him…" I sigh, only wanting the best for my two dearest friends. I don't think either of them enjoyed the confusion and unrequited thoughts.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jo replies in a detached voice, "besides, Gale has a girl. Quite the catch. They met a few weeks ago when we got back."

If I didn't know her so well, I wouldn't have caught the bitterness beneath her words.

"Gale?" My eyebrows raise, "as soon as you guys came back he went straight to the shop to work on a few cars for some extra money. How could he have had time to find a girl… friend or whatever?" I scrunch my face up in confusion.

"It's just like you said. Girls seem to fucking trip over themselves. How else do you think he had so many cars to '_fix'_?" Rolling her eyes, Jo gets up and throws a box at me.

I catch the box just in time before it drops, giving her an annoyed glare. "What's this?" I ask, eyeing the plain silver wrapping around the shoebox sized package.

"_Not_ a vibrator," she leers, "go ahead and open it. I already know you'll love it after the few minutes you hate it." She knows me so well.

I realize that this is her way of changing the subject.

Arguing with Johanna is a lost cause. I never thought I would meet anyone more hardheaded than Gale or me, but she takes home the gold.

I carefully unwrap and open the box.

What's inside makes me gasp, "Johanna!" My eyes are wide as they stare at a pair of flawless, nude colored, ballerina shoes. The stitching is in gold, and the bands that tie around the ankles are the same color as the stitching.

"I saw them in this tiny dance shop in the middle of nowhere while we were passing through France. They looked like you. They're handmade; I picked out the size and the shop owner made a new pair right in front of me. I asked her to change a few things…" Her voice taking that gentle tone I've only heard her use a handful times in the two years we've known each other.

I pick up one of the delicate shoes and examine the bands; on the end of one, it has the letter "K" stitched cursive on the end, in my favorite shade of green. I take the other ribbon in my hand and feel a tug at my heart. On the other strip, "Everdeen" is written identically. Immediately, I start thinking the cost of these shoes, they don't look cheap, and are one of a kind.

"How—?"

"I didn't buy them," she cuts me off, "it was sort of a trade. I spent a few days cutting up wood for the lady's winter supply so I could get those. No big deal," her gentleness slowly spiraling towards indifference, "I know you only use them for one class, but at least you'll look legit."

My smile stretches almost all the way across my face. Johanna is one of the few people who know how to give me a gift I'll love—that isn't bought, but comes from hard work.

In the far corners of my mind, I know the real reason she got them for me.

Last year I wore out my old ones so bad I spent months with painful blisters. I couldn't afford another pair with the final payments I was making on my car and I had to pay for Prim's surprise tonsil removal.

Johanna makes it _seem_ like she saw these and thought of me, but I know this is just her way of looking out for me without having me flip about being independent and not needing charity.

Before I had met her, any thing with the word 'gift' or 'present' attached to it made me want to bash the person's head in with the same object.

Somehow, she's gotten me to be a little more gracious about taking gifts.

I surprise both Jo and myself by flinging my body on hers and wrapping my arms around her.

"Thanks, Jo. They're perfect."

"Yeah. Well, whatever. Lets start getting ready so we can go get fucked up." She pats my back twice before moving away from me, quickly ending the touchy moment between us.

At that moment, the door flings open and there stands a too perfect, flawlessly tanned, shirtless, smiling buffoon.

"Ladies, the party is HERE! The year can finally start. Sorry I'm late, I got stopped for a few pictures on the way here," he boasts with arrogant conviction.

"Finnick!" Johanna and I simultaneously laugh out, rushing over for a group hug.

Pulling back, we all share a look that says tonight's party is surely going to go down in history.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Reviews would be awesome! This is my first story, so i'd really like to know what you guys think.**

**Also, I'm in need of a beta. I would really like another pair of eyes on my edits before I publish them. I'd be thankful for any volunteers!**

**I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter. I'm having lots of fun writing!**

**I have chapters 2 and 3 already written, I'm just working on editing them. I'll post as soon as I can!**


	3. Habits

**Disclaimer: I don't own thg**

**A/N:**

**I have a playlist put together for the party if anyone's interested in listening to it!**

**(in order by appearance) Do What U Want - Lady Gaga; Sweater Weather - The Neighborhoud; Habits - Tove Lo; TKO - Justin Timberlake; The Woods - Juicy J (Ft. Justin Timberlake); Addicted To You - Avicii**

**I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!**

* * *

CHAPTER 2

"I don't know how you wear these," Finnick shudders, shaking his bronze locks in the process.

He flicks my light blue thong across the room at me while I'm sitting at my vanity, desperately trying to get my eyeliner to cooperate. "Those look like they go in places that things should never go in."

"They're comfortable after a few seconds," I murmur, silently cursing my eyes for being so odd… _How did Johanna say to apply this again?_

"I prefer them on the ground," Jo announces as she struts out of the bathroom, brazen as usual and pantless.

"Johanna!" Gale hisses from Johanna's bed, lifting his head from the photo album she made of her travels in Europe.

She just winks at him while looking for something to cover her legs with.

"Hey, so I got a new roommate! Thank God, I was getting tired of walking in on Gloss and Glimmer sixty-nineing each other," Finnick winces.

"Oh yeah? Who is he?" I ask once I'm done with my mascara.

"Uh, I think his name is Porter, or Peter, something like that. I can't remember, but he seems like a really cool guy. I have faith I won't walk in on him screwing any girls on our mini fridge. Too nice."

"Good. I'm tired of you crashing on my couch," Gale adds, preoccupied with trying _not_ to look at Johanna's ass as she leans over a box to grab something.

"Whatever, you miss me. You know it." Finnick makes kissy noises at Gale and laughs at the look he receives in return. "He'll be at the party tonight, I'll introduce him later. Figure he get acquainted with the three people who are in my room constantly."

"Don't forget about Annie," Gale teases.

Finnick grows quiet and I can almost feel the smile that is coming from behind my back.

Finally admitting defeat after a few more tries, I turn around and look at one half of what I've come to call my family.

Gale is trying to look any place he can to keep Johanna in his peripheral vision while she tries on different clothes. Finnick holds open a copy of Cosmo, turning his head to the side and looking focused on what's in front of him.

"Where are Madge and Annie?" I interrupt them from their own world.

At the mention of Annie, Finnick's eyes glow, disregarding the abruptly boring magazine. "She said she was going to meet us there; she had to help her uncle out with a few things back at the club before she could make it here. Madge is riding with her." Even after two years, he still seems as smitten as he did the first day he laid eyes on his girlfriend. Somehow, I don't think he'll ever stop looking at her like it's the first time.

"We've got about two hours to kill before the party really gets going. Kings Cup or Egyptian Rat Screw?" Johanna asks as she slams a large bottle of foreign looking, dark brown liquor on top of the table by the window.

"Ugh, no, not Kings Cup," I argue, "I don't think we'll ever make it out the door if we start playing that game. Let's just play a round of rat screw." I walk over to the table and plop down on the chair.

Johanna eyes my simple dark jeans and black camisole, shaking her head at me. She grabs the first two pieces of clothing she sees and tosses them at me. "Okay fine, but I won't let you make it _to_ the door in that! Put those on and let's get started."

* * *

Two hours and a _veeeery_ good buzz later, all four of us are stumbling across the quad to the frat house that's hosting this year's first official party. The shorts Johanna forced me into have started to irritate the inside of my thighs.

_Great, I've already started chafing, this is a spectacular start to the night_, I think as I trip over air.

Johanna has involuntarily put me in these high waisted maroon—what she claims are shorts, but they could easily be mistaken for underwear—shorts and a loose cropped black t-shirt with some Russian writing across it. I just about blew a gasket when she reached for some studded heels, but she compromised and let me wear my black combat boots. Those will come in handy later when I'm fumbling back to the dorms in the dark.

Finnick and Gale high-five over Gale's word in _'find another name for'_, a game we always play on the way to parties. Being tipsy or drunk always makes the pastime much more comical than playing it while sober.

"Okay, okay, petting the iguana!" Johanna blurts out.

"That just sounds nasty! Not the right phrase for that," I shake my head in disagreement.

"Well, it got us a point, so what do you care?"

I roll my eyes at her and look up at the approaching house. We're only a few hundred feet away, but I can hear the music almost clearly. A woman is singing about letting a guy do what he wants with her body over a pop beat. It's not something I usually listen to, but it's catchy.

We walk up to the door and start walking in, not having to wait in a line since everyone is already in the house or littered around the front and back yard.

As soon as we're through the door, many familiar faces greet us; I take notice that there are just as many new ones in the crowd. I wave back to the faces I recognize.

Everyone seems to be dancing, drinking, or talking and laughing loudly over the music.

Two years ago, I would've had to have been dragged to one of these things, but now I appreciate the chaotic and sensual atmosphere. After hours packed with studying and stress, this is a place to just let loose and relax.

The residents of the house have cleared out the very large living room and made it an improvised dance floor. The DJ is set up in the far right of the room, on top of some tables, white lights shooting out from the booth sporadically. Someone had obviously changed the lights into luminescent dark blue bulbs before the party, making the whole house a murky hue of indigo. They also put a disco ball on the ceiling, creating a club-like effect.

Everyone is either intoxicated by alcohol or the air around him or her.

Johanna knocks her hips against mine, singing along to the song, "Just take my body, and don't stop the party!" she echoes rowdily, throwing her head back.

I roll my eyes at her, laughing as she pulls me through the crowd to the kitchen. After a few steps, I turn to wave Gale and Finn over but they seem preoccupied talking to some blonde guy. I don't recognize him since he has his back turned to me. Gale shares that man shake/hug thing that guys do with him and smiles.

When we reach the kitchen, Jo opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle I can't see. She shakes her head and barks out a laugh, "Do you remember this?" She holds the bottle, lightly swinging it from side to side.

"Oh my God," I gasp, eyeing the black bottle of Patron coffee liqueur.

"Between Madge, you, and me, we downed this bottle in an hour and stayed up all night puking 'cause we couldn't go to sleep!" she exclaims, pouring some in tall shot glasses, shaking her head again and smiling.

"That was the worst decision you ever talked me into making, and that's saying something. You've talked me into a lot of mistakes," I grimace, taking the shot she gives me.

"To old memories, and many more new ones this year!"

We clink shot glasses at the cliché toast and wander around the kitchen, looking for something good to mix up, so we can head back to the dance floor.

"Katniss! Johanna!"

I hear Johanna say Madge's name before I turn and see her, smiling and running up to us. She envelops us in a hug, her blonde hair thrown in our faces while she squeezes the life out of Jo and me.

"Take it easy, Madge, we have the rest of the year to see each other!" Annie laughs from behind her.

We all exchange more hugs, commenting on the party and new faces. Judging from Madge's slightly glazed over blue eyes, I'm sure she's done some pregame warm-up of her own on the ride over here.

I look over at Annie. At first one couldn't tell, but examining her closely, they'd be able to see that her shoulders are marginally tensed, and that her jawline is more defined as she clenches it a little. She's also a bit more fidgety than usual.

"You okay?" I lean closer to her, trying to speak over the music and people around us.

It takes her a few seconds to respond, but she gives me a short nod and smiles, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, just trying to remember where I parked my car."

I give her a small smile, knowing that she's just covering up with a joke. I can tell it's hard for her to be in a place like this with her severe ADHD. It must be difficult to focus on anything we're saying, especially being a few months out of practice. I pull her over to a corner, where it's minimally quieter.

"How's your uncle?" I ask, recognizing why she's so distracted.

"He's… okay. Today was a bad day, but tomorrow will be kinder," she replies, staring at the wall behind me.

"Well, I have to go down there again next week. I'll set him straight," I promise, giving her a light jab in her gut, trying to get her to look at me. I stand there for a few minutes, waiting.

She shakes her head, dispelling whatever trance she's in and looks at me and smiles widely, "Sorry! I'm just in my own world; I'm usually better about this. But thanks, Katniss. For some reason, he listens to you a little more than he does me," she jokes, her eyes gaining emotion again.

My elbow is abruptly pulled, causing me to spill a bit of my drink on the floor. I jump and turn to Johanna, who's grinning from ear to ear.

"C'mon! My DJ just got here! Let's dance, Pavlova!" she calls over the music.

I roll my eyes at her trivial nickname, because I'm far from a professional dancer.

She pulls me a few steps before I turn around and throw Annie an apologetic look, promising her that we'll continue talking later.

As we reach the dance floor, the beat changes. A girl starts singing about sex clubs and being restless. The music is inebriating, and makes me start dancing.

Johanna turns me around so I'm dancing on her.

The line between tipsy and drunk is blurred, my thoughts are choppy and quick in the cobalt room.

I throw my head back and rest it against Johanna's shoulder, my long chestnut hair draping over her back. We sway for a few seconds before I reach behind me and grab at her black mane, trying to find something to keep me stable. She grasps my hips as I grind against her.

The girl singing wails on about drugging herself to keep from missing her lover. The lyrics rap around me and I let the music and Jo's hands lead my hips.

We stay like that for a while, swaying to the music. My head only lifts to take a drink from the cup in my free hand. Johanna takes the cup from me and takes a sip over my shoulder. The song comes back to the chorus, and I let my head fall back on her.

I can feel the melody in my bones; the bass reverberates against my chest, making my heartbeat match the beat.

I continue grinding on Jo when I unexpectedly feel a blush creep through my chest and up to my cheeks.

I lift my head, feeling eyes on me.

I look around, but the faces blur together, the swaying bodies surround me. The rush I just felt slightly wanes. I shrug and put my head back to where it's been.

Slowly, I feel Johanna's hand creep up from my hips. She raises my cropped shirt a little on her way up my stomach. When she's almost to my bra, I tilt my head to the side—this is the most I've ever come in contact with Jo, we're not really touchy people—catching her mischief filled eyes I let out a chuckle and shake my head. _Gale must be watching,_ I think. I close my eyes and enjoy the pure ecstasy I feel, in that state between tipsy and drunk, the _I'm-on-top-of-the-world_ feeling.

The song changes and everyone goes wild, hooting and throwing their hands up. I turn around to face Johanna, we share a smirk and continue dancing, singing along.

I can't help the face splitting grin that graces my face as I live in the moment.

I'm thankful to have someone like Johanna in my life. I know I haven't ever expressed it to her; our friendship is anything but sentimental, but she's taught me not to hold the weight of the world on my shoulders, that it's okay to have fun, and spend time trying to find myself.

She's shown me that I can keep my fierce independence and character and still let loose, occasionally acting my age.

A loud, "KATNISS!" disrupts my musings. I turn my head and meet Finnick's glassy green eyes; he's got Annie on his hip, who is snickering at him.

"That fucker over there doesn't believe me that you can s-shoot a bulls-eye from twenty yards!" he boasts, pointing over to some guy who I've never seen before.

I hear Johanna scoff next to me.

"Shoot what?" I humor him, tilting my head to the side.

"A bow and arrow, dude, duh."

"Oh. Twenty yards? That's quite far." I almost yell, making sure the guy can hear me.

"Yeah, but I bet him a hundred bucks… for every shot," he pleads, playing along.

I exaggerate my sigh, trying to look like I'm worried, "I _guess_ I could try," I shout, competing with the music.

At that point, twenty or so people have stopped what they're doing to look over at Finnick and me. I look around, the people I know smirking.

"C'mon, _please_. I can't lose this," he begs, almost a little too hard, making a smile tug at my teeth.

"Okay, let's go."

I try not to laugh too hard as I walk through the back patio doors and find the bulls-eye already set up. My own bow and arrow are on a beer pong table outside. I chuckle as I glance at Finnick, who has this innocent look on his face.

I feel that same rush I did when I was on the dance floor earlier, my blush returning rapidly. I touch my flamed cheeks, perplexed. I look around—there's probably fifty, maybe more, people gathered around the makeshift archery field. I shake off the jittery feeling, chalking it up to nerves.

We do this every year. Finnick always bets some stupid newbie that I can't shoot, and I pretend like I've never been asked to. Then I hit the bulls-eye and we split the money fifty/fifty.

I pick up my bow, abruptly aware of the fifty pairs of eyes on me. I may be beyond tipsy right now, but I'm a sure shot—drunk or sober. I've done this before with way more booze in my system, so this buzz holds no effect on me.

I know that I'm being stupid and reckless by doing this, but my pigheadedness currently has a vice grip on my dignity. That feeling of confidence I get when I've had a few drinks fuels me further towards proving that the jackass who thinks I can't shoot is wrong.

Finnick strolls over to the target and boldly takes it off the stand, holding the large target over his chest while shooting me a cocky grin. A few people gasp, others just laugh at his tenacity.

I narrow my eyes at him. His grin only grows larger, knowing he was successful in annoying me gives him satisfaction.

I act like I don't know what I'm doing for a few seconds, holding the bow and arrow awkwardly, trying to figure out what goes where.

I catch the sneer out of the corner of my eye. Irritation fills my lungs, suddenly wanting nothing more than to wipe the smile off that face as fast as humanely possible. I'm not easily shaken; I've been challenged before, but for some reason, today, this douchebag gets to me.

Nocking the arrow and drawing it back, I take a deep breath. I close my eyes, willing the dizziness to disappear for a few seconds. When they open, the stability I always feel when holding my bow washes through me. Holding my breath a little longer, I take a few seconds to aim at the target. As I breathe out, the arrow flies through the air.

It hits the bulls-eye with a soft _clunk_.

I don't even bother looking up.

Picking up the second arrow I declare, "One hundred."

I repeat my mechanical process of breathing in and aiming; a habit picked up after the hundreds of times I've drawn an arrow before the one in my hand.

Hitting the bulls-eye again on the second shot, I announce my next two words loud and clear, "Two hundred." The buzz from a few minutes ago reduces from the adrenaline pumping through my blood.

As I reach for the third arrow, that rush I felt grows deeper, sneaking in through my bones and reaching my heart, making it beat three times faster. My cheeks become flamed and a knot starts to form in my stomach. I close my eyes, briefly trying to dismiss the feeling the same way as earlier.

I draw my arrow back and open my eyes.

They're drawn to the right of the target, about ten feet away from it. I'm met with a set of piercing cerulean eyes, the purest shade of blue I've ever seen. My mind catches up with the rest of me a few seconds later, confirming that those eyes are the source of the blazing fire I feel in the pit of my stomach.

My heart picks up speed as I'm trapped in the trance the two blue orbs grip me in. I'm paralyzed; I will myself to look away but I can't seem to make my body cooperate with my brain. Everyone and everything else blurs, all I can see are the transcendent irises that stare back at me.

I can't seem to find the right word for the sensation that envelops my whole being. Feelings surface that were, until that moment, uncharted territory. Everything makes sense and then it instantly doesn't. I don't have any words for it—even if I did, I wouldn't be able to articulate them. My body seems to have checked out on me.

I don't know how much time has passed, but I can't even begin to think about how I'm going to look away.

The sound of glass breaking keeps me from wondering any longer, yanking me out of the grasp.

The girly scream I hear twenty yards away finishes pulling me back to the present. My head whips back to my left and see the same asshole that challenged me, except he's covered in beer and glass.

I shot right through his beer bottle.

I start towards him, eyes wide with worry. I start to think about everything that could go wrong in the next few seconds. O_h God, what if I hit him? What do I say to my mom, to the dean?… I can't lose my scholarship over this._

The remorse I feel turns into confusion and aggravation, then is quickly eclipsed by shame. I can't help it. While I feel terrible for possibly hurting the poor guy, it does nothing to hide the irrational annoyance I'm riddled with.

I _never _miss.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I wanna thank Chelzie for beta-ing my story! I really appreciate the time she's taken out of her day to edit my work.**

**Up next: PEETA! Finally, right? And some more party, of course :-)**

**Reviews would be lovely, I'd love to know everyone's thoughts!**


	4. Dust to Dust

**Disclaimer: I don't own thg!**

**I have a few A/N at the end of this chapter, but until then:**

**Enjoy Chapter 3!**

**(Featured song: Afraid by The Neighbourhood)**

* * *

_(Previously)_

_I start towards him, eyes wide with worry. I start to think about everything that could go wrong in the next few seconds. Oh God, what if I hit him? What do I say to my mom, to the dean?… I can't lose my scholarship over this._

_The remorse I feel turns into confusion and aggravation, then is quickly eclipsed by shame. I can't help it. While I feel terrible for possibly hurting the poor guy, it does nothing to hide the irrational annoyance I'm riddled with._

_I never miss..._

* * *

When I reach the guy, he's still standing there, frozen from the shock.

I look over at Finnick, whose expression matches his.

"Oh my God!" I start, waving my hands in front of him, not knowing where to touch, or where he's been injured, "I'm so sorry, are you hurt? I was being so stupid. I'm sorry, I never should have done any of thi—"

He cuts me off, "That…" his eyes grow larger as he continues, "Was… _AWESOME_!"

Immediately everyone starts clapping and hollering.

"I'm so sorry I ever doubted ," he quickly hands me three hundred dollars.

I take the money and look at him like he's grown three heads, completely dumbfounded.

"Are you alright?" I ask again over the cheers, still worried he might be hallucinating from the impact.

"My brother is never going to believe me when I tell him this," he shakes his head as he reaches for his phone in his pockets and walks away towards the house.

I feel Finnick grab my shoulder. "You've outdone yourself, Katniss. Made little Marvel speechless! Looks like that hot-blooded attitude of yours paid off. I'll take my half, please," he holds his hand out with a smirk.

I quickly regain my composure; I don't want anyone to know what had happened was just a lucky fluke.

"Yeah, well, he pissed me off. Serves him right, underestimating me," I growl, stating only the truth. He really _did_ aggravate me.

The crowd begins to disperse, disinterested now that there isn't a show. The buzz I had is almost completely gone from the adrenaline, leaving me with a minor headache.

"C'mon, let's get back in there," Johanna grabs my elbow and leads me back in the house. 

_I swear, by the time I graduate, I'm going to be left with one arm._

I turn my head and look around for the blue eyes I'd been drowning in a few minutes ago, but can't seem to find them anywhere.

Johanna and I reach the kitchen, walking directly towards the fridge. She pulls out a light blue, unlabeled bottle filled with clear liquid from the freezer that's been purposely hidden behind a bag of ice.

The color reminds me of the blue-eyed boy. _What the hell was all that?_ I wonder, still trying to find the words to describe what had just happened. I hadn't caught the face of the guy, too engrossed in the baby-blues. I would have noticed him by now, so he had to be a transfer student.

"What is that?" I ask, eyeing Jo as she lines up six shot glasses and fills them to the brim quickly, a task I've seen her do many times before while bartending at _Nightlock_.

"Good shit, not any of that lightweight junk," she assures me, pushing three shots towards me, "Bottoms up, Legolas," she teases as she raises her shot glass to mine.

I pick up the shot, needing my mind to be elsewhere right now. We down the first drink quickly, and I realize it's the same jaguar piss I accidentally drank earlier. I swig the next two as fast as I can, trying to think about anything but the taste.

"That is the most vile drink I think I've ever had," I cough out, my face scrunching from disgust.

Jo rolls her eyes at me, "Whatever. Thank me later for the killer buzz, that shit is cloud nine material."

We make our way over to the main room again, passing Cato trying to suffocate some new girl with his tongue.

"Glad he still has standards," I mutter under my breath, "nothing but mammals."

The party is now in full swing, everyone in their own realm. More than a handful of people are practically hooking up on the dance floor; the others are oblivious, too occupied with the music and dancing.

An eerie track plays through the speakers. It takes me a few minutes to place the song, but I recognize the creepy _The Neighbourhood_ tune when the chorus comes. The effects of the hard liquor I just downed start to hit me, and my thoughts slow further.

The minor dizziness I feel from the strobe lights causes me to close my eyes as I start swaying to the beat.

Johanna joins me and we dance for a few songs, letting the buzz come into full effect again.

A pair of hands grabs at my hips and I turn my head, meeting a pair of glassy baby-blues.

My stomach drops a little in disappointment as I realize they aren't the ones I ache to see.

Madge gives me a dopey smile as she starts dancing on me. From the dilatation in her eyes, I assume she's consumed something other than alcohol.

We all keep dancing for a while before I feel the all-consuming sensation I felt earlier return. I already know what I'm looking for before I raise my head. My ashen eyes find the ones I was captured by across the room, by the wall.

He's standing next to Finnick holding a beer, not even trying to pretend like he's listening to him.

I take a moment to do what I couldn't do before and study the owner of the cerulean blues.

What I find does not disappoint.

His blonde locks touch his eyebrows, which slant towards his straight nose as he looks back at me. What he lacks in height is made up for in his build. He wears a simple black t-shirt that does wonders for his strong, defined arms and broad shoulders. His forearm flexes as it grips the beer bottle in his hand, making the veins more distinct. He isn't ripped, but looks like he could lift a couple hundred pounds without any problem. _Or me, _I consider in afterthought.

I save the best for last, letting my eyes roam over the jawline that could chisel through granite, which makes my mouth water. I've never been so turned on by just looking at a guy, but this one is a sight for sore eyes. _What is with the effect this guy has on me?_

He stares at me for a few more seconds before he realizes what he's doing. He blushes and abruptly looks away, turning his attention back to Finnick and Gale, who aretalking animatedly.

"I need a cigarette," Johanna says in my ear, interrupting my reverie.

I nod my head and follow her and Madge to the backyard. I lean against the house once outside, needing support from the buzz and befuddling thoughts I keep coming back to. I can't get the color blue out of my head.

"What a night, huh?" Johanna asks as she holds the cigarette between her lips, lighting it.

_I couldn't agree more._

She offers me one, like she does every time I come out with her for a smoke. I give my usual reply, shaking my head disinterestedly. Smoking has never really been my thing. I never saw any purpose in it, and the smell sometimes conjures memories up of burning coal—something I'm not fond of.

"Yeah I guess," I mutter. I glance over at Madge, wondering why she's been so quiet when she's usually a lot more talkative.

She's staring off blankly, swaying slightly to the music.

_Must be feeling the results of whatever she's on_, I muse as I look over her flowery sundress paired with cowgirl boots. Her drugged state doesn't match her clothes—which look out of place at a party like this. She looks like she should be in a field picking blossoms and chasing butterflies.

Madge has always been a sweet girl; I don't think I've ever heard her curse, or speak badly of someone. I guess being a congressman's daughter, she seeks the need to rebel in the only way she can. She isn't a fighter, and doesn't sleep around. She's far from a drug addict, though; I've only seen her high at parties or on the weekends she isn't at a charity event.

I think she takes drugs because it makes her feel alive and in control. She doesn't make many decisions herself because her father or his people make them all. I know she loves to make her Dad proud, but I also know it can get exhausting to have to live up to someone else's expectations.

Jo snaps her fingers in front of Madge's face, startling her.

"Sorry, you just looked like fucking a zombie standing there**,**" Johanna apologizes harshly.

Only Jo would think she's doing you a favor by snapping her fingers in your face. She adds a half-ass remorseful smile after to soften to remark.

Madge and I start snickering at Johanna's attempt at being nice.

"What? I said _sorry_, right?" Jo can't even finish saying it before she starts to crack up.

Abruptly, we all start laughing loudly. We laugh harder at the fact that we're cracking up over something that isn't funny at all.

I see Gale walk out of the house and spot us. He shakes his head at us while walking over.

I notice he's holding hands with some girl I've never seen before. Finn, Annie, and the unnamed blue-eyed sex symbol follow behind him.

I stop laughing, getting panicky as they all walk over to where I'm standing with Jo and Madge.

"What are you clowns cackling over?" Finnick teases.

"Clowns? I only see one here, and he's wearing a fake tan," Johanna counters.

"How many times do I have to tell you…my tan is a hundred percent Finnick Odair and _real_ sunshine produced. I can't help it if my skin is faultless and soaks up the sun three-hundred-and-sixty-five days a year."

"I'd believe it, if it wasn't for that receipt I found from the tanning salon."

"O_ne time_, Jo, one fucking time I go—over a year ago—and you're still badgering me over it. I just wanted to know what it was like…"

"Sure, sure," Jo mumbles as she lights another cigarette.

"Anyway girls," Finn huffs, "This is my new roommate, Peeta Mellark. Peeta, this is the sassy Miss Johanna Mason," Finn announces as he gestures towards Jo, "Madge Undersee, who probably won't remember meeting you, so we'll introduce you again when she's sober." He points to Madge, who smiles kindly and holds her hand out for Peeta to shake. "And this is Katniss Everdeen; she doesn't need an introduction, you've already seen what she can do with a hot temper and a bow," he finishes while winking at me.

I hold my hand out for Peeta as Madge did, not wanting to be rude. He gently grips my hand, instantly making me want it to be all over me.

_Ugh, what's wrong with me? I'm acting like some horny sixteen-year-old girl! Get your shit together, Everdeen._

He murmurs, "Nice to meet you," and gives us a nod.

"What's your major, good lookin'?" Johanna presses, making Peeta blush from her brazen attitude. I narrow my eyes at her, wondering what games she's playing at.

"Oh, uh, business management," he answers, his voice gentle but masculine.

"Gonna open up your own shop of sexy?" Johanna suggests, wiggling her eyebrows as she not-so-subtly checks Peeta out. I don't know why what she says gets under my skin, but I immediately get irate over Jo's interest in him. _She doesn't even _like_ blondes._

"Johanna!" Gale hisses as everyone laughs. I immediately get why she's coming on stronger than usual. _She's just trying to make Gale jealous._ I let out a breath I didn't notice I was holding.

She chooses to acknowledge Gale for what I think is the first time since he's walked out, shooting daggers at him, then swiftly moves her gaze over to his guest.

Gale picks that moment—_the_ most horrible timing in history—to introduce the girl.

"I forgot to introduce you guys to Venia. She just moved here a few weeks ago from New York."

Venia waves at all of us shyly, oblivious to the tension. All of us awkwardly nod our heads while Jo silently fumes.

There's a pregnant pause for about a minute after, no one wanting to make Venia feel welcomed for fear of falling under Johanna's wrath. I chance a look at Jo; her skin color almost matches the tips of her hair.

She chucks the cigarette angrily at the ground and blurts, "I need a drink… Katniss?"

She raises her eyebrows at me, her eyes silently ask me, _Well, are you just gonna fucking stand here with the traitor whore, or are you going to join your best friend for a drink?_

I choose the latter option; I don't feel like being locked out of our dorm room in the middle of the night oncethe party's over.

We're back at the kitchen for the third time that night, except Jo's chipper mood is killed.

She grabs at the bottle of jaguar piss and doesn't even bother pouring a shot, downing the liquor straight from the container. She shoves the bottle at me after a few gulps. I silently take it and tip the bottle back twice, wiping my mouth with my wrist when I finish.

"The fucking _nerve,_" she hisses as she snatches the bottle back from me.

"Hmm…" I answer, not wanting to say anything wrong that might make her go off.

"I wonder if he has to work that hard at being a jerk-off, or if it just comes naturally."

"He hasn't really been on my good side either these past few months," I agree quietly. Gale's decisions haven't exactly been the best ones lately.

I stand there and watch her slug more of the liquor. She hands me the bottle when she deems herself finished.

I don't feel like drinking anymore—feeling my limit being pushed already—but I don't want to deny Jo anything right now, knowing a hangoveris a better option than having Johanna angry at me.

I walk over to the island in the kitchen and pick up two cherries. I hand Jo one, and toss the other in my mouth. The sweet taste washes away the bitterness left from the alcohol.

I grab Johanna's hand and squeeze, our own version of comfort. Neither one of us is the type of girl who cries over stupid boys or holds the other friend gingerly while she weeps. We deal with shit, get over it, and move on. Jo feels the same way I do about pity. This is the only form of consolation I could think of that wouldn't feel too soft-hearted.

She looks up at me; the rage in her eyes disappears, replaced with mirth. Jo may have a fiery temper, but it comes with a pretty short fuse that burns out quickly.

I pull her towards the dance floor again, not wanting our night to be ruined by Gale's ignorance. After a few songs, Johanna's jovial mood is back. Annie and Madge join us shortly after, all of us dancing on each other and giggling.

I'm enjoying my time with my girls too much to be preoccupied by a blue-eyed boy.

After thirty minutes, I begin feeling overwhelmed by the noises and bodies enclosing me. I signal to Jo I'm going to the bathroom and start walking off, looking for somewhere to sit down. I peer up the stairs; the line is too long for my liking.

I stumble outside, walking past the crowd in the backyard. I see a bench about a hundred feet from the party, far enough away from the blaring house. I plop down on the bench, placing my elbows on my thighs and my head in my hands.

_I shouldn't have had thatmuch to drink… I'm so out of practice._

I sit like that for I don't know how long before I hear footsteps approaching, a few leaves crunching on the person's pursuit. Whoeverit is, I hope they aren't planning on sneaking up on me; a stampede might as well be advancing. I lift my head, trying to get my eyelids to not be so heavy.

_Just my luck…_

Peeta stands over me, a worried look on his face.

"Can I help you?" I mutter, my headache making me bitchy.

"You okay?" he asks, ignoring my mood, looking genuinely concerned.

I let my head drop back into my hands with a grunt. _Of course, he has to be overbearingly sweet on top of being so good looking._

"Go away," I groan, feeling utterly embarrassed that one of the hottest guys I've ever laid eyes on has to see me like this. I just want this night to be over and never speak to him again.

I feel him sit next to me, resisting my request.

"Here," he murmurs, silently laughing. He gently pushes his arm against mine and the contact makes my skin sing, leaving goose bumps all over me.

I raise my head a little to see his hand offer me a piece of bread in the shape of a crescent moon. Suddenly hungry, I don't ask questions as I take it.

"It's to absorb the alcohol in your stomach…" he answers my thoughts, "I know it doesn't really work, but the idea is still comforting."

A small smile forms as I think how this guy, who barely knows me—and could be trying to hook up or force himself on me—is trying to comfort me while I'm wasted, even after being a witch to him.

"Than-sorry…" I become tongue tied, not knowing whether to apologize first for being impolite or thank him for the bread, so I shake my head and try again, "Thanks… sorry I was rude, I'm not feeling like a champ right now."

He shrugs and gives me a half smile, "it's understandable. I've been there."

"Yeah, but I didn't need to act like that. You were just being nice."

"Don't worry about it, you're just out of it. I'm sure you're much nicer when you're not feeling sick."

I snort, the words leave my mouth before I can hold them back, "You don't know me…"

It's a reflex that I get defensive when people assume they know me. I wince as I realize he's not presumptuous, just sticking up for my attitude… Once again, I've put my foot in my mouth.

Fed up with my defensive bullshit that's only helping me humiliate myself further, I stand up and start walking off. _I can't believe this is happening… this guy tries to be nice, and you fuck it up. High five, loser._ I roll my eyes at myself, shaking my head as I storm off. I just want to pretend this night never happened.

"Hey! Wait! I'm sorry…I shouldn't have presumed anything about you…"

I stop dead in my tracks, eyes as wide as saucers, and turn back around. Peeta stands a few feet away from me with an apologetic look on his face—not the kind Johanna tries to make, but a real one. I can't believe he's _still_ being so polite… I would have walked away from the first words I said to him.

"Seriously?" I wonder aloud, asking the trees surrounding us if they are witnessing the same thing I am. _Why is this guy being so nice?_

"Yeah…I bet you always act like this," he blurts. I didn't think my eyes could get any larger, but they prove me wrong after his remark. _What?_

He continues quickly; I barely understand the words because they're said too fast, "You're right, I don't know you. You're probably some s-shrew who walks around destroying people's lives… who lives under a bridge… and ch-chews on the bones of dead b-babies or something."

It takes me a few seconds to realize he's joking. Since I acted like a hellion when he called me nice, he's trying to see if I'll change my attitude if he says nasty things about me.

I see a smile tug on the corner of his lips and his eyes shine with humor. I abruptly double over in laughter, unable to contain myself. In seconds, we're both shaking from the laughter, tears rolling out of my eyes.

Without warning, my laughter turns into heaves. My brain realizes a second too late that I shouldn't be in the position I'm in—hunched over, hands on my knees—and laughing my ass off, especially with how much I've had to drink. I sprint to the nearest tree to expel everything I've consumed in the last four hours. Tears burn my eyes in a whole different way.

As I lean against the tree and continue my recap of the night's drinks, I feel two hands gently pull back my hair.

When I'm positive my intestines are laid out all over the ground, I straighten my torso and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand in an unladylike manner.

"Feel better?" Peeta questions, examining my face.

"A little. Thanks. I don't know why you're being so polite, I've been anything but." I put my head down in shame, eyeing the bit of puke that's splattered on my boots.

"My mom raised me a gentleman, I'd never disrespect a lady unless I want her to beat me senseless," he chuckles. "C'mon, let's get you home. I think you've had enough fun for one night."

"You got that right," I mutter, walking with him towards the house.

Inside, I look around for Jo. I find her by the bar in the kitchen slamming shot after shot, competing against some burly guy. He's failing miserably. Johanna's the youngest of six brothers who are all massive, tough guys—if she knows anything, it's how to hold her own, as well as her liquor. I reach her and whisper in her ear that I'm done for the night.

She turns around, pausing her run. I know this break won't give the other guy a chance to catch up; he's about four shots behind and looking like he's about to drop in two more.

She spots Peeta behind me and raises her eyebrows at me in question. I minutely shake my head, pleading silently with her not to comment. She smirks and shows me her key, returning back to the game in front of her.

I turn back to Peeta and lead him out of the house and through the courtyard.

We walk towards my dorm in awkward silence. I think of anything to say to him, but anything that comes to mind sounds like it'll just humiliate me. When I finally think of something to talk about, we're already at my door. I let out a frustrated sigh; _it's too late now._

"Well… t-this is me," I stutter, "Thank you, Peeta. You're an okay guy."

"Okay?" he repeats, raising an eyebrow at the description I used, feigning hurt.

I chuckle, "Yeah, 'okay'. I couldn't think of another word. Maybe selfless is a better word…and handsome," I add, the alcohol that's left in my system making me bold. I affirm my statement with a short nod and fumble with my keys.

I stop with my hand on the door handle. I hate owing people, and I've tried to avoid it all my life. I think of a simple way I can pay him back quickly that will make us even.

"Uhm, it's tradition that my friends and I go to Denny's the morning after a party…you can come if-if you, you know, want to…it's just the group you met tonight…or n-not if you have things to do, it's okay…" I babble.

He beams, his smile contagious. Mine unconsciously matches his as our eyes meet.

"Sounds like a plan, I've got nothing else going on. I'll see you tomorrow, then," he promises.

I keep my mouth shut, thankful I haven't said anything overly stupid, and nod my head.

"Bye, Katniss." He waves as he walks backwards to the elevator.

"Alright," I splutter like an idiot before opening the door.

I rush into my room and slam the door behind me, leaning against it. _You're about as smooth as sandpaper, Everdeen…_ I chastise myself. I look over at my enticingly comfortable bed and start towards the bathroom, needing to wash out my mouth before I knock out.

As I brush my teeth, I think about our conversation. I don't even know why I would care about being smooth. It's not like it could ever work between us. I'm not a relationship kind of girl.

Having to keep a guy happy as well as depend on him for my own happiness seems like a horrid idea. _Why would anyone want to walk around believing they're someone else's other half?_ Not to mention, those girls around campus who are always texting their boyfriends about their whereabouts. I don't answer to anyone; I haven't in quite a long time. I'm my own person; I don't need another half to make me feel whole, as I'm content with who I am.

I spit out the rest of the toothpaste in the sink and look in the mirror.

_The only person you need to worry about is yourself… and Prim,_I order the girl who looks back at me.

I make my way over to my bed, taking off my boots and tossing my clothes on the floor.

I collapse on top of the sheets in my underwear, appreciating Johanna's decision on these dorms. _The mattresses are much cozier here_.

Before I slip into unconsciousness, my thoughts are occupied with the blue-eyed boy with the bread.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I just want to thank EverlarkRecs on Tumblr for the rec (thier url is everlarkrecs)! It's a huge compliment, and it means a lot to me because this is my first story.**

**Big thanks Chelzie again, for beta-ing for me and continuously correcting my "common"s :-)**

**And thanks to those of you who have reviewed! And continue reviewing! I love hearing your thoughts, really. **

**I've had a few people comment on confusion towards which pairing this is, and it is most definitely Katniss/Peeta, I hope I've made that a little clearer in this chapter. **

**My URL on Tumblr is archaicfun if anyone has any questions, they can post on here or go ask me on there; I'm on Tumblr 24/7. **

**I hope everyone's had a great weekend, and has a wonderful week! **


	5. Roll Away Your Stone

**A/N:**

**First off, I'd like to thank anyone who reviewed, followed, favorited my story! It means alot, and it's 99 people more than I thought would read! thanks guys! **

**I'd also like to thank my beta, Chelzie, for taking the time out of her holidays to edit my story; she's pure awesome!**

**I hope everyone enjoys this update! See y'all at the bottom.**

* * *

"Why do I drink?" I moan as my forehead rests on the table in the breakfast diner. The clashing of dishes and loud, joyful people at nine in the morning doesn't help my throbbing headache. Even breathing in too deep hurts.

"The question you should be asking yourself is why you can't hold your liquor," Johanna interjects from my right, playing with a few packets of sugar. I don't even make an effort to kick her under the table.

"Ease up, Jo," Madge chastises from my left, "Not everyone can be a heavyweight champ like you." Her giggle almost makes me gag. _How can anyone be _so_ chipper after a party like that, this early?_

"Beautiful morning, isn't it, ladies?" Finnick bellows as he arrives at our table.

His loud voice cuts through my head like a chainsaw. A quiet growl passes my lips as I wrap my arms around my head. I thoughtfully add his name to the list of people I want to kick this morning.

"Jesus,Katniss, you go without a drink for three months and you're under the table in one night," I hear Gale snicker. _I might as well add his name to this growing list, too._

I hear a familiar chuckle that causes me to blush. I whip my head up way too fast, causing me to wince. I look up to meet Peeta's sky blue eyes. He gives me a small smile that I return absent-mindedly.

The guys take a seat; I can tell Gale and Jo are avoiding each other by the way they sit on completelyopposite sides of the table. Peeta sits directly in front of me while Finnick takes a seat in front of Jo. I look around for Annie—she and Finn are usually inseparable, but Madge asks before I can voice my question. Finn answers with a short, nonchalant response about her helping her uncle out at the club again.

Jo and I share an intuitive look, reading between the lines. He must be going through a really rough patch if Annie has been spending so much time with him. As I try and track the date, Gale makes a comment from the end of the table.

"Hell of a party last night. Almost thought Katniss wasn't gonna make that third shot."

"Yeah, you usually don't take that long to shoot," Madge agrees.

I promote them both from my kick-list to my shake-violently-while-choking list.

"Yeah, well I had a lot to drink…and I had a different target," I snap, "I don't know why you waited so long, Finnick, you saw how much I drank during rat screw."

"_Oooh_, feisty, Everdeen," Finn taunts, "What's up your ass? We got the pay out, didn't we?"

As I estimate the consequences of shooting him with an arrow, Madge chooses to extend her hand towards Peeta.

"I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself. I'm Madge Undersee… you are?" she volunteers sweetly.

We all burst out, cracking up over Finn's premonition from the night before. Madge looks at us like we've all started speaking Greek.

Peeta gathers himself before anyone else, grasping the hand she still has suspended in the air like a gentleman.

"Hello Madge, I'm Peeta Mellark." He introduces himself as though he had never met her.

We all sit there trying to hold in our laughter until the waitress comes to take all of our orders.

"Mellark… that sounds familiar," Madge muses after we make our decisions.

"Uhm, yeah. My grandfather owns a restaurant in town, _Mellark's_."

"Oh! In Chelyan, right? I've never seen you there."

"I'm rarely there. I usually spend all my time working at one of my parent's bakeries, _Panem Pastries_. It's in South Charleston," Peeta answers.

"Oh, are you a culinary artsmajor?"

That sets everyone off, again. Madge starts to turn red, a little annoyed she's not included in our joke.

Finnick takes pity on her, "You already met Peeta, last night at the party. You were just really out of it."

Madge starts giggling, "Oh…sorry, Peeta. I must look like a total airhead."

"Don't worry about it," Peeta assures, winking at her, "we all got a good laugh out of it."

I roll my eyes at the exchange. _Jesus, he's like the Pillsbury doughboy._

Madge blushes as she repeats her question, "So…_are_ you a culinary arts major?" Her face looks apologetic as she tilts it to the side.

Peeta chuckles. "No, business management. I already have the culinary part down. What about you?" he inquires, genuine curiosity in his eyes.

"Political science, like my father," she replies.

Peeta looks around at the rest of us in a questioning manner, "Are you all political science majors?"

"Marine biology," Finnick announces, tilting his glass towards Peeta before he takes a drink.

We all then take turns around the table, stating our majors.

"Mining engineering," Gale murmurs, looking at me—his eyes full of sorrow.

I look away, repulsed by his decision to study the very thing that murdered our fathers. Even though I told him how I felt, he knows I haven't forgiven him for it; that's why I've silently chosen Johanna's side in whatever war they have going on.

I hear Johanna proclaim industrial management as I stare out the window, trying to stop picturing my dad's smile.

Johanna jostles my arm and I realize everyone's looking at me, waiting for my reply.

"Sorry. Music education," I mutter, before I turn back to the window.

"Katniss—" Gale starts.

I cut him off by standing abruptly—needing a minute away from him before I say something I'll end up regretting. I walk towards the back of the diner, fuming.

I shove the door open to the women's bathroom and head for the last stall. I slam the door behind me and run my hands through my hair roughly, breathing deeply. I grit my teeth so hard my jaw aches. The same questions I asked myself the day he first told me what his major was going to be start to arise again…

_How could he do this to me? To his family? _Our_ family_?

I thought I could forget about it—act like nothing's changed—but all these feelings have reappeared and are staring back at me.

I think back to six months ago, when he first told me he changed his major. I remember badgering him for weeks before, trying to get him to tell me what his final decision on his major was. To add to the blow, it was a few weeks after the anniversary of the blast that ripped my dad away from me.

* * *

_"C'mon, Gale… You're going to have to tell me eventually. I'll figure it out at your graduation when they announce your degree," I tease, tossing a blackberry at him. He catches it and pops it into his mouth, smiling as he chews. _

_I sit with my legs crossed on a blanket in the middle of the park, waiting for him to answer me. He's pensive as he gazes out at the children playing. He's been so busy lately, andthis is the first time we've had any time to hangout in weeks. Gale's been doubling up on classes, trying to get all his prerequisites completed before the year is up. I know his major has something to do with engineering, from all the calculus and statistic books I've seen him carry around._

_"Catnip…" he pauses for a few more minutes, thinking of his next words. "I want you to know my decision has nothing to do with the awful things that have happened in our past. I'm looking to the future; a better, _safer_ future," he insists._

_"What are you talking about? Saferfuture?"_

_"I'm only thinking about the agonizing pain we've endured. The problems we've been burdened with… I wouldn't wish it on anyone—what happened to our fathers."_

_"I know, Gale," I murmur, bewildered by where this is all coming from. We rarely ever bring that up._

_"I'll understand if you hate me after this…it took me a while to admit to myself that this is the career I really want." He finally meets my eyes; I see the regret in them._

_"Gale…" I caution, "What's going on?"_

_He only replies with one word, it barely makes it out of his mouth, "Mining."_

_"Yes?" I push, still not grasping what he's trying to say._

_"That's my major, Katniss. Mining Engineering."_

Mining…Mining…Mining engineering._ I repeat these words mentally, over and over again, bouncing them around in my head. I don't know how long I sit there—staring off vacantly. I can't put them together. It doesn't make sense. They can't. They don't. _

_Maybe I heard it wrong?… _No, he said it twice. There's no mistaking it,_ I confirm._

_It hits me like a ton of bricks. No—like an _explosion_. A blast that crushes my heart and obliterates my thoughts. _

_Before I know what I'm doing, I reach over and slap Gale so hard across the face, it takes us both a second to recover._

_I don't know what comes over me; suddenly I'm bursting with rage. The only color I see is red as I withdraw my arm back and punch my best friend square in the jaw. I get in a few good ones—he doesn't fight it—before someone tries to pull me off. I make a last attempt before they haul me off him completely, clawing at his face with my fingernails._

_I scream terrible names at him, ripping free and lunging towards him. I don't even make it two feet before the same person yanks me back, restraining me with their arms around my waist._

_"YOU PROMISED! You fucking promised! You said you would stay with me. We would take care of our _family_, Gale! You selfish son of a bitch!"_

_I keep struggling against the stranger, but their grip tightens. I can barely breathe from the pressure but my fury eclipses the pain._

_"You're a sick masochist, you know that?" I spit._

_"Katniss, please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he chants, blood trickling down his face, "I don't want anyone to have to go through this anymore. I'm doing this to make a change. I want to help make mining secure. I want men and women to not have to worry about the danger—"_

_I cut him off with my screams that don't form words as I fight even harder against the arms that clutch me. _

I can't listen to this bullshit anymore.

_"It should have been YOU!" I yell, revolted by the fact that he has an actual excuse. _

Did he not see the gaping hole this left in our family?

_The manic depression my mother fell in, losing the home he was raised in, the semester Rory had to spend out of school because he had to work—the money Gale making not enough—Hazelle having to pick up three jobs to put a deposit on an apartment and put Rory back in school._

_"You'll be sorry, Gale, you will be. When you're gone, just like they are. When your family falls apart—"_

_"Katniss! _Enough_!" I hear Finnick warn, tugging at me. I vaguely realize he's been the one holding me this whole time. _

_I look around and see Annie standing off to the side as tears roll down her cheeks. Almost everyone in the park has stopped what he or she is doing to gawk at us._

_I stop struggling and grab Finnick's arms. He understands I'm done with my episode and lets go as I turn to look at Gale._

_"I hope this talk goes better with Hazelle, because we're fucking done. I don't know where you're going to go once she banishes you from home."_

* * *

I feel the hot tears burn down my cheeks as I reminisce. I wipe them off aggressively, wanting all evidence of my temporary weakness gone.

We went over a month without speaking after that, and we didn't bring up the subject again after we talked it over.

As much as I hated to admit it, it was hard functioning properly without my best friend. Our lives are so intertwined it makes it that much more difficult to avoid each other. Having to relay messages about whose turn it is to car pool, or avoiding eye contact when our families were constantly together at dinners, or our siblings' school functions. We were forced to speak to each other.

I promised him I'd be civil, that I'd try and forgive him one day. All I can think about right now is how I refuse to accept his death wish so easily like Hazelle and his family has. He made a vow in return for my forgiveness: that he'd reconsider his major, try and think of another that wouldn't end in his death.

I lean my head back against the wall, absorbing the fact that what I just did breaks my promise. If I can't keep my promise, then why should Gale have to keep his?

I hate admitting that I haven't fully pardoned him, but I really _am_ sorry. I called him many things he isn't, I hurt him physically as well as emotionally, and I felt I owed it to him to push my opinions aside while he reevaluated his priorities.

I let out a heavy sigh as I exit the stall.

_Keep your promise, andhe'll keep his,_ I remind myself.

Maybe if I try a different method, he'll understand where I'm coming from.

I splash water on my face before I go back to the table.

Everyone grows quiet as I return, the joke Finnick was telling suddenly not funny anymore.

I plaster a smile on my face as I sit, acting as though I hadn't stormed off five minutes ago.

"What's so funny?" I ask, grateful that the food has arrived so I have something to distract myself with. I crack the egg on my plate into a shot glass and add salt, pepper, and hot sauce before tossing it back.

I look up at Gale indifferently as he eyes me thoughtfully. I know he'll want to bring this up again, but right now I just want to pretend nothingis wrong.

"Finnick was just telling us about the time he walked in on arts and crafts having it out on his bed," Johanna explains, picking up on my silent message.

"Arts and crafts?" I question, pouring some maple syrup over my fried potatoes.

"Gloss and Glimmer…" Madge reiterates.

Finnick picks up back where he left off on the story while everyone digs into his or her breakfast. I do little to contribute to the conversation; as always, I sit there and listen while everyone else does the talking for me.

I see something slide over my way from Peeta's direction in my peripheral. I meet his eyes as he finishes pushing his mug of hot chocolate over to me.

He gives me a small smile, and continues eating. The flutter in my stomach throws me off and I sit there with my fork suspended in the air for a few seconds.

For some reason, this gets under my skin. His need to try and comfort me—_again_—is perplexing. He has no benefit in it, and it's obvious he's not at fault.

_So why does he keep trying to help me?_

I don't touch the cup for the rest of breakfast, hoping he gets the gesture silently conveying that I can care for myself.

As we all get up to leave after the meal, I lag behind on the way to the cars next to Peeta.

When I think everyone is preoccupied enough in watching Finnick and Madge re-enact some type of ballroom dance, I shove Peeta's shoulder. He stumbles back a few steps into a car, caught off guard.

"What the hell was that?" I whisper yell at him.

Confusion washes over his features, "What?"

"What's your game plan?" I further interrogate.

He repeats his previous answer as he becomes more confused.

"Why are you acting like this? You don't even know me."

"Being nice?"

"Yes!" I hiss.

"I just…I didn't—You looked upset, I wanted to cheer you up. I'd do it for anyone…even a total stranger." As he confesses this, I see nothing but absolute sincerity in his eyes.

I recognize then that his eyes hold so much more then cerulean blue; they show all of his character. Anyone looking into them can see the true emotion he feels, because he proudly bares it all.

I immediately feel guilty for accusing him of ill intentions. He doesn't look like anyone who's out for personal gain.

I exhale deeply, feeling forced to say something I've rarely ever said to anyone but Prim.

"Look, I'm… sor—ugh," Iclench my eyes shut briefly as I continue with this torture, "I'm really out of it today. I shouldn't have been so rude."

"It's alright… are you okay?"

"Do you like me being in your debt?"

"Do you like being so confusing?" he asks, bypassing my question while giving me a half smile.

I roll my eyes, "You know—"

He cuts me off, wondering out loud, "Hey, since you're in my debt, does that mean you owe _me_ a favor?"

I narrow my eyes at him, regretting ever telling him such a thing.

"Maybe…" I mumble as I start walking towards Johanna and Finnick's cars.

"So I can ask you to do anything for me?"

"Whoa, not anything… depends on what it is, I guess."

"Those aren't the rules, Katniss."

I sigh heavily. "I didn't know we were playing a game," I mutter.

"You did hurt my feelings a bit back there…" he continues, casting his eyes downward, playing the sad puppy card.

That look has only worked a handful of times with Prim. While I do know he's partially playing around, I still feel a little guilty for hurting his feelings.

"Ugh, fine… what is it? Hurry up, before I change my mind."

He's thoughtful as we're almost to our rides; everyone's started piling in already.

I figure he's going to take a day or two to decide what my favor's going to be as I open the door to Jo's dark blue Audi A4.

I settle into the seat and go to close the door when Peeta calls my name.

"Yeah?" I look back at him; he's already in the car, with the window rolled down.

"Meet me outside of Ferrell Hall at six tomorrow," he winks as he rolls up the window, not giving me the enough time to respond.

Finnick pulls out of the parking spot quickly and drives off while I'm left with my mouth wide open and my hand stretched out to the open door.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Uh-oh! Peeta's got a little game :-)**

**Please, please review! I love hearing everyones thought. Feedback is always needed and appreciated!**

**I also take asks on my Tumblr, if anyone has any other kinds of questions/comments. ****_archaicfun_**** and ****_hijackedthoughts _****are my two and only blogs. :)**

**I'll try and make my next update not take as long as this one... We'll see how hungover I am one New Year's Day ;)**

**Everyone, stay safe and enjoy NYE!**


	6. Awake My Soul

**A/N:**

**So I feel like the horrible mother whose neglected her small child. RL got in the way waay too much! I started college again and I've been working 6 days a week, which were tough! But I just got back from vacation, so my mind is fresh and I feel well rested! I hope this chapter makes up for such a long (well it feels like a long) wait to update.**

**This chapter (like 90% of my others) was****_ heavily_**** influenced by some Mumford & Sons lyrics. I was inspired by Awake My Soul, its a beautiful song, and I love all thier work-but this one is a favorite. I really recommend listening to the song, or atleast reading through the lyrics! It's pure genius. Anyways... on with the show! See y'all at the bottom! :-)**

* * *

_How fickle my heart and how woozy my eyes_

_I struggle to find any truth in your lies_

_And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know_

_My weakness I feel, I must finally show_

_Lend me your hand, and we'll conquer them all_

_But lend me your heart, and I'll just let you fall_

**Awake My Soul – Mumford & Sons**

~o~

_I'm not going. Nope. _

I'm sitting on my bed, staring at the clock.

_5:07_ blares angrily at me in red. Each minute that passes is spent in two ways: the first thirty seconds I'm contemplating how long it will take me to shower and quickly get dressed. The second half of the minute is spent chastising myself for thinking that way and being irritated that I'm willing to let some boy invade my thoughts so profoundly.

I try to distract myself by staring at Johanna while she sits on the floor, propped up against her bed doing some trig project. I make it about five minutes before she feels my eyes on her and looks up.

"Hey, hooker," she smiles as she chews on the end of some red licorice.

I roll my eyes at her and fall over on the bed.

"What time is your shift tomorrow night?" I ask while snuggling up to the knit pillow Prim made for me one Christmas.

I look up at the clock again, _5:16._ I huff and turn my attention back to Jo.

"Uhhh," she shifts around some of the books and papers piled around her and picks up her calendar, "Eight to six… I hate thirsty Thursdays," Jo mumbles as she flings her calendar across the room, irritated by her schedule.

"I know. Haymitch doesn't help us either, putting hard liquor at half price."

"Haymitch doesn't help at all, period."

"I hear ya."

"You want me to drive this week?"

I try guessing how much gas I have in my beamer. I spent all my money restocking groceries at Gale's house and mine and buying clothes for Prim. I don't think I have enough money to fill her up until I get my tips tomorrow night.

"If you want to start it off, yeah."

Jo and I have been switching off weeks carpooling since she started working at _Nightlock_ in December of our freshman year. I convinced Haymitch to hire her since we were short three waitresses and working so many hours was driving me up a wall. I think Jo made it an hour before driving her knee in between some guy's legs. A few weeks after that, business started dropping fairly quickly. Haymitch made Johanna **a **bartender after she busted a beer bottle over some frisky guy's head. I'm pretty sure he didn't fire her at the time because she was too close to the knives. Jo's behaved well ever since; she's only thrown a handful of drinks in people's faces.

"I think I'm gonna head over there a bit early, though. I want to see what all the commotion is," she ponders.

When she says a bit early, I glance at the clock.

_5:25._

"Yeah… good idea." I stay silent for a few minutes, quickly falling back into the routine I started around five o'clock.

"My last class ends around six. Can you be ready by then?"

"Uh huh… speaking of classes… what are you doing Wednesday at ten-thirty?" I ask, playfully innocent.

"Ugh, you know what I'm doing," Jo glares at me from her place on the floor, "I haven't changed my elective—no matter how many times I've walked up to admissions to change other classes. Although it is tempting…"

I grin in triumph, "Good. I'm glad I'm not going to be stuck alone with Miss Trinket this year."

"Oh no!" Johanna perks up—mimicking our dance teacher's voice, "Please, _please_! Call me Effie. Miss Trinket sounds too _old_!" She finishes with a spot on impression of Effie's obnoxiously fake laugh.

In my bout of laughter, the clock catches my eye again.

_5:31._

When I look back down, I catch Jo is studying me. She _almost_ pulls offindifference, but I catch a smirk start to form as she looks back down at her book.

I'm positive after seeing that smirk that she heard what Peeta said yesterday morning. But I'm also sure that Johanna would never butt into my life, not even to make one of her trademark digs. We've always respected each other's private lives.

I look around awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. After a while I stare at my hands, not wanting to be tempted to look up at the clock.

I heave myself off the bed and go towards the bathroom.

_Maybe a long shower will help keep my mind off things._

As I reach for a new pair of sweats I eye the time, again.

_5:37._

_I'm not showering for anything. I just want to be clean and relaxed,_ I remind myself.

I gather my clothes and head into the bathroom. I undress as slowly as possible, even taking my time to fold up the dirty clothes. When I step in the shower I decide to shave my legs—also deliberately slow. I wash my hair, brush my teeth, and stand under the hot water until it runs lukewarm. Sighing, I turn off the faucet and step out.

I brush out my hair and lather my whole body with lotion. When I'm done doing every mundane thing possible, I step into the bedroom. I disregard the red numbers on top of my desk as I walk over to the laundry basket and dump my clothes in it.

"Hey, you wanna watch a movie?" Johanna asks, picking up her books that are scattered all over the floor.

"Uh, yeah, sure. Which one were you thinking of?" I reply as my hands style my wet hair into a braid.

"I don't know… still deciding. Do you want to see anything in particular?"

"No, whatever is fine."

"Okay, well while I decide, can you get me some more Red Vines from the co-ed lounge?"

"There's plenty of snacks in _our_ own lounge. I don't know why you get the only damn candy that we _don't_ have."

"I like being difficult," Jo affirms proudly.

"I realized that two years ago…" I mutter.

"Hurry up! They close at seven!" She tosses the empty bag of Red Vines at me as reach for my shoes.

"Alright! Alright! Jesus, you're so much angrier when you're hungry."

I reach for my wallet and because my mind loves torturing me, I look at the time.

_6:32._

I sigh in both relief and dejection as I walk out the door.

When I make it outside, the unseasonably cool air hits me. I hug my hoodie closer to me and make my way across the large quad.

I walk a bit faster than normal, not wanting too much alone time with my thoughts.

When I reach the co-ed hall, the student lounge is nice and warm.

I relax a little as I wait for the three people in front of me to decide what snacks they want from the vending machine. When it's my turn, I punch in the combination for two packages of Red Vines and choose a Butterfinger for me. As the machine takes my order, I glace at the analog clock across the room.

_6:39._

I turn back to the machine, watching the Red Vines drop. When the second package hits the bottom, my heart speeds and I start to shake slightly from the sudden burst of adrenaline that's abruptly consumed my muscles. I suddenly don't want to be here anymore. Then a thought comes to mind…

"Fuck it," I mutter before looking back up at the time.

I don't even see my Butterfinger drop before I take off sprinting towards the door.

He's probably gone by now—tired of waiting, angry he was stood up—but I still want to see if he's there. Part of me hopes he is.

My feet take turns hitting the ground quickly as the rest of my body directs them towards Ferrell Hall.

What's usually a fifteen-minute walk only takes me three, maybe four minutes.

As I near the bench in front of the building I see Peeta. He's sitting on it, kicking the dirt underneath him disappointedly.

I stop about thirty yards away, hidden by a large bush, and catch my breath. It takes me a few seconds to gather myself before I slowly walk up to the bench and sit next to him.

He looks up at me surprised, his eyes lighting up like the fourth of July.

"Hey," is all he says.

I repeat his greeting, still a little out of breath.

"I didn't think you were coming."

I turn my head away in embarrassment, "Yeah… me either," I mutter under my breath.

Peeta bumps his shoulder against mine, making me look back at him.

"Well, you're here now… are you hungry?" he asks, a grin pulls at his teeth.

"A little."

"C'mon," he gets up and I notice he's got a rucksack with him.

"Where are we going?"

"Relax, we're not going far," he reaches over and places his finger between my eyebrows, trying to get them to stop scowling. I tense a little from the surprise contact, but my eyebrows slacken after a beat.

"Fine," I mutter, getting up and following him.

He chuckles at me victoriously and leads the way.

We start walking and he looks over at me, his eyes traveling down to my plain white shirt and sweats.

"I changed my—I didn't know I was, uh… coming." I give him an apologetic look.

He smiles at me but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, which are laced with hurt. From my clothes and what I just said, I know he's put together that I was planning on standing him up.

"What made you change your mind?" he asks softly.

"I don't know. I just… ended up here. I can't explain it."

"You're not good with words, are you?"

"Oh, you noticed?"

"You seem to have sarcasm down, though," he chuckles.

We stop at the top of a hill on the edge of campus. I look around and we're not entirely secluded, but it's quiet and the few people who are here are busy studying or reading. The soft atmosphere and sunset brings solace to the area.

Peeta takes a blanket out and I examine his forearms that flex as he unfolds it over the grass. _I wonder how they'd look doing something else…_

He looks up and catches me staring.

"I know what you're thinking…"

_Oh shit._ I try and maintain a cool façade as he continues.

"It's not a date—I just want to talk to you. From the looks of it at breakfast, you looked really upset… I know we just met, but I'm a good listener. I figure, being roommates with one of your friends, we'll be seeing a lot of each other… maybe we can be friends, too?" His eyes meet mine with trepidation, trying to gauge my expression. He continues his rant—mumbling so low I have to strain to hear him, "I mean, I'd _like_ to be more. But like, not right away, I mean—ugh, I need to shut up." He shakes his head in frustration. I can't help but chuckle at how cute he is when he's trying so hard.

"How can you be so… nice and _open?"_ I hate to question his motives—which seem true and honest—but it's instinct.

"It's easy. You should try it sometime," he jokes, sitting down on the blanket.

"Hey! I am ni—_pleasant_ enough. I'm not mean or anything," I argue, sitting across from him.

"I know," he laughs, "I was kidding… so… friends?"

"Friends," I repeat, giving him a small smile.

Peeta takes out something that looks like bread wrapped in foil.

"I hope you like banana bread," he opens the foil and offers me the freshly made bread.

I grin as I rip off a good-sized piece for myself. When I take a bite, a moan almost escapes my mouth.

"Oh my God," I mumble, the food still in my mouth. "This is amazing!"

"Thank you," he chuckles.

We sit there and enjoy the tasty dessert for a few minutes.

"So…" Peeta starts, looking up at me from the bread in his hands.

I stare back at him, not knowing what to say.

"Are you and Gale going through a rough break-up?"

I almost spit out the food in my mouth, but in trying to keep it in, I choke on it instead.

"What!?" I cough out, "No. God no! No, _no_—no _never_!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. It—to someone on the outside, it sort of seemed like that. At the party, you acted awkwardly when he introduced the girl he was with."

I finish coughing before I talk again.

"No. Ugh, disgusting. Not that he's repulsing, it's just he's like my big brother. Well, in my head he really is my big brother. We just grew up together, it was _never_ like that."

Peeta almost looks relieved by what I've said as he hands me a bottle of water.

"I just thought, with you storming off like that—"

"No. I was just upset he's still stickingwith same major he decided on."

"Why wouldn't he be? Mining engineering seems like a pretty decent job. The awesome pay doesn't hurt either."

I glare at the water bottle in my hands, "Yeah, well, it's worth nothing if you're dead."

"Oh," Peeta mutters as he looks away. I can tell he's a little curious, but he doesn't try to push for more. It's comforting that he doesn't ask questions, when anyone else would want to know why I would say something like that right away.

"Our fathers… they died in a mine explosion when we were fourteen." I don't know what makes me tell him—I've never told anyone that before. Jo only knows because Gale told her, and I'm sure everyone else wonders about how our dads died.

Peeta looks up at me and his eyes hold no pity, only sincere apology.

"I'm really sorry. It must hurt to know that your best friend is choosing the same path."

"It's worse than hurt, it feels like the ultimate betrayal. Like he doesn't love any one of us enough to have a job where he doesn't risk his life like our dads did. He hasn't learned from their mistakes."

He reaches over and grasps my hand in his, squeezing in silent comfort.

"I can see why you were so shaken."

"I'm sorry, I'm not usually emotional…"

"It's okay, I'm sure holding it all in hurts, too."

"He's just so… _blind_. He doesn't see the damage he's doing to his mom or siblings. He thinks what he's doing is going to benefit the world, but he's doing it at the cost of his family. They can't lose anyone else, it'll destroy them."

"You haven't said any of this to him?"

"Not in… so many words. I kind of showed him," I grimace.

Peeta chuckles, "Your expertise in words didn't come in handy?"

I bark out a laugh, "Not that time, no."

"You guys still seem rocky."

"We are, I guess. We forgave each other before he left to study abroad this summer, but I guess I haven't stopped making him pay for it."

"God, I'd hate to be on your bad side…"

I shove at his shoulder while I laugh, "I'm not vindictive. I do it unintentionally. Gale is difficult; he doesn't see the obvious things. Sometimes you have to use force."

"Like how he's in love with Johanna?"

I snap my head towards him, "How'd you know that?"

"Anyone can see it from a mile away. She feels the same way, too. At breakfast I thought maybe he'd left you for her or something… why aren't they… you know, together, if that's not the case?"

I huff in irritation at my best friends, "It's complicated. They're a couple of hard headed dimwits."

I know I've told Peeta some things about myself, but I don't want to say anything Gale or Jo might not want him to know. Besides, _I_ don't even know why they aren't together.

"They sound like my brothers," he laughs.

I instantly picture a tiny Peeta being held down by two larger look-alikes as they all wrestle.

"Are they older than you?" I ask, wanting to know if my theory is correct.

"Yeah; they're both assholes, but I love 'em. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"Just one, a little sister. She's the purest person I've ever known." I smile as I think about Prim. She's a much better person than I'll ever be, and finds a silver lining in almost everything.

"You guys sound close."

"We are. We've always been close, but after ourDad passed, we became closer. She depended on me a lot more, of course. My mom sort of… checked out for a while."

Peeta nods as he listens to me, his face holds interest and not the judgment I've always expected from people.

"Sorry I'm unloading on you like this," I mutter in embarrassment.

"No, it's okay. We're friends, remember?" He gives me an assuring grin.

"I don't usually do this. Sitting in a field with some guy I met a few days ago. Talking."

I feel like he should know this isn't the norm for me; he's the first guy I've done anything like this with other than Gale or Finnick.

"You don't strike me as the kind of girl who does. It's why I didn't expect you to show up earlier," he comments.

"Then why'd you ask me?"

He blushes and casts his eyes down, not answering my question.

"What?" I push.

"It was stupid, I don't even know why I asked."

"Yeah, you do. Your eyes don't help you hide anything," I confirm.

Peeta sighs heavily and mutters something under his breath before he continues.

"I just… I don't know. You looked so intimidating when I first saw you—you know, holding a weapon and everything—I was terrified to even say hi to you. I was so sure that a beautiful girl like you would never look twice at a guy like me. Then I thought, 'You know what? Let me just get shot down right away, and that way I don't have to wonder going forward.' Even if you don't see me like that… you seem like someone who would be a great friend to have."

I sit there, paralyzed in surprise by his honesty.

Peeta asked me here only to spend time with me. He never expected anything from me. He only wanted my time, to get to know me better in whatever way I would offer him. He's the most sincere person I've ever met. I I've only known him for a few days, but I don't think anyone could deny that Peeta isn't genuine, no matter how long they've known him.

His openness awakens something in me. I suddenly feel hopeful—alive. My edgy thoughts clear away—all my worries about house bills, taking care of Prim and our mom, Gale's choice of career—they all fade away as I meet Peeta's eyes. They display security, candor, lust, and vulnerability. All of them worn proudly by the man sitting in front of me.

"Say something," Peeta whispers, interrupting my reverie.

I feel like doing what I've thought about doing since I first saw Peeta.

My body decides to take over my mind as I lunge forward and crash my lips against his.

He falls back, taken by surprise. It takes him about a second to react before he kisses me back.

Our lips move against each other's, intensely at first, then slowly turning passionate. I taste the banana bread we ate earlier on his lips as they caress mine. His tongue brushes my bottom lip and I open my lips in invitation, letting him invade my mouth. He gently grabs my face and tilts it for better access and continues his delicious assault.

I've only ever kissed two people in my life. The guy I lost my virginity to a year ago and Gale—once, by force in a middle school game of spin the bottle—which was probably the worst first kiss a girl could get. Peeta's mouth against mine trumps any other one I've kissed. He's both gentle and wanton. He lets me lead; only taking what I give him.

I let my hands wander over his chest, feeling his muscles tense at my touch. His torso isn't hard, but sturdy and comfortable as I lay on top of him. I adjust myself over him and my thigh rubs against something hard—I can only imagine what it is. He pauses after a beat. I lift my head to look at him, smiling.

I meet his pristine blue eyes and examine them closely. While mine have tiny flecks of blue and darker shades of grey in them, Peeta's are nothing but cerulean blue—a calm, uninterrupted sea. It's almost as if mine are tainted by darkness and grief, while his only let in light and happiness.

My smile fades as I reflect on that analogy.

Peeta looks as if he's lived his whole life happily, gladly wearing his heart on his sleeve. Meanwhile, I've been burdened by the loss of my father and the inability to be so open with people.

Even before my dad died, I'd never been social or agreeable. I'd always worried about myself, keeping my grades up, or being a good influence on Prim.

The only thing that had changed after the explosion was that I no longer worried about myself. I had two other people to care about. I forced myself to excel more in school so I could have a better job—one that didn't require serving cocktails to strangers and cleaning up after drunks.

Peeta doesn't look like someone who works nights to provide for his family. He looks like a normal college student who doesn't have to support two other people. He doesn't deserve an antisocial broke girl like me, who knows nothing about relationships or guys.

Then I remember _why_ I don't know anything about that kind of stuff: because I've been too busy being the breadwinner of the family.

My brain reminds me of something I said a few nights ago.

_The only person you have to worry about is yourself… and Prim._

I'm abruptly appalled at myself. _How the fuck did I get so side tracked?_

I can't believe I've put everything in jeopardy by letting my emotions inhibit me from thinking clearly. I don't need another headache in my life. I don't want someone to have the power to break me like my dad had over my mom. I've seen what love does to people, how that loss devastates them to the core. They become non-functional zombies—not living, but not entirely dead either. They spend their days in purgatory, only snapping out of it if someone else comes along to ease the pain. Then the cycle starts again.

I'm not one of those people and I never will be.

In the few seconds I've come to realize this, my smile has morphed into a grimace.

Peeta's eyes fill with worry as he looks up at me. I push off him and stand up before he can react.

"I'm sor—" I cut off his apology, knowing it will only make me feel guilty.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay, I should have stopped, too."

I huff in frustration.

_Do not feel guilty,_ I think to myself.

"Look, I'm sorry. I've given you the wrong idea," I continue even though I see hurt in his eyes, "That was just a spur of the moment thing. I'm not… I don't date. It's not you, really. It's just me and everything going on in my life."

Peeta laughs sarcastically and shakes his head, looking away.

"I've heard that one a few times."

I sigh dejectedly for the second time that night.

"I mean it. I'm just not the girl for you."

"Why do you say that? I know you feel the same way I do, or else you wouldn't have kissed me."

"It's true!" I reiterate more forcefully, "You don't want _me_, just the _idea_ of me. If you really knew me, you'd run away screaming." I try and think of more things to tell him so he will stop wanting me.

"From what little I do know, I like you. It makes me want to know _more_ about you."

"Ugh!" I throw my hands in the air, exasperated by his argument, "Just—no! There couldn't ever be anything between us, okay?"

He sighs in defeat, his shoulders hunching over, "Yeah… okay," he mumbles as he looks away.

I feel the conversation is over; he doesn't look like he wants to talk to me anymore. I turn and walk away towards my dorm. It feels like I'm doing a walk of shame all the way there, getting more and more upset as I near my room.

When I walk in, I look over at Johanna. She's sitting on her bed chewing on a new package of Red Vines and more than halfway through with _Pulp Fiction_.

I don't say anything as I walk straight into our bathroom and slam the door shut.

I grip the sink as and look up at my reflection. I barely recognize the girl in the mirror, whose eyes are wide and rimmed with tears. Her cheeks are still flushed from the kiss earlier, her lips are slightly swollen, and her braid has become disheveled.

I echo the remark I told the drunken girl I was looking at a few nights ago.

_The only person you need to worry about is yourself… and Prim._

I chant it for a while, wanting her to understand it clearly.

I stop when my fingers hurt from my hold on the sink. I wash my face and redo my braid, taking off everything but my white t-shirt and underwear.

I walk out of the bathroom, avoiding Johanna's eyes as I crawl into my bed and get comfortable.

"Do you want me to turn the TV down while you sleep?" she asks nonchalantly.

"Nope, it's fine," I reply in the same tone.

I fall asleep repeating the mantra I've created over and over again.

Right before everything fades to black, I accidentally let the image of two blue eyes slip into my thoughts.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I know what you're feeling, I feel that hate towards Katniss, too! She's stubborn, I know. But I do love me some HEA, so there will be no worries there. **

**Let me know what you guys think! I love hearing your thoughts, really! Even just a "Thumbs up/down/shakey thumb" comment would suffice. I know I'm giving a HUGE thumbs down to Katniss.**

**But I do give a big thumbs up to my beta, Chelzie! She works wonders, and her feedback is so appreciated. **

**I'd also like to thank my gringa, kenziemayy, for watching me make corn bread on skype while prereading. I've sucked in to the world of FF and now I don't think she can get out. **

**THANKS TO EVERYONE who reviewed/followed/favorited/etc because you are the ones who keep me writing!**

**I will def try to update much sooner! If I don't, you're all welcome to start hassling me! :-)**

**Alright, I'm done with long ANs!**


End file.
